


Out of the Ice

by firefright



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Body Modification, Cybernetics, Kissing, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: Two years ago, Jason was unjustly imprisoned. Locked up in one of the most secure prisons in the galaxy. Now, after months of sacrifice and planning, Tim is finally going to get him back.





	Out of the Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TaneKore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/gifts).



> Hi! So a few weeks back I passed 400 followers on my [fic tumblr](https://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/), and to say thank you, I temporarily opened up prompts. Out of all the ideas I received, I ended up picking four to fill, and today's update is the first of those four XD
> 
> This fic is for TaneKore (also known as JayKore on tumblr) who asked me for JayTim, with the prompt of "Dealers choice or maybe something sci-fi... androids with ulterior motives are always fun :3". I ended up not quite going the android route, but sci-fi, definitely. Hope you enjoy!

Two years, sixty-three days, eighteen hours, and thirty-three minutes. That’s the prevailing thought running through Tim’s mind as he tracks the path of the elevator’s descent through the prison. 

Two years, sixty-three days, eighteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and — he checks his internal chronometer — fifty-five seconds: the time that's passed since he last saw Jason. Since the last time he held his hand, touched his hair and felt his arms around him. Since the last time he heard his voice in a way that wasn’t a recording, or the far less reliable recollections of memory.

The stolen data he took from the guard droid in the control room at the top of the complex sits like a lead weight in the back of his mind, feeding every detail of the prison’s layout, inmate numbers and access-codes across his eyes through the screen of his visor. Later, he’ll copy it all into his ship’s computer in case it can be used again in the future by their cause (doubtful, as the Feds will surely change everything in the wake of what he’s going to do here today), and delete the extra load of information from his own memory banks, but for now he needs it. For now, it’s the only thing that’s going to ensure that this foolhardy mission, one that he’s sacrificed so much of his time, life, and money these past two years to plan, may actually have a hope in hell of working.

The stream of numbers running across his visor (connected by wireless interface to the implant in the back of his skull beneath his hair), are accompanied by a buzz of voices in Tim’s ears from two very different channels. Each signal relayed directly into his brain through the audio receptors he had installed only last month for this very purpose. 

On one side are the voices of friends, family; all the people Tim had managed to convince to help him in his mad quest to do the impossible today, waiting in the wings. On the other, the prison staff — human and robot alike — communicate with each other. Boring stuff mostly, but it will be his early warning system, should anything happen to go catastrophically wrong during the course of the next hour.

Tim taps the side of his visor to shut down the display as he feels the mechanism powering the elevator start to slow; the push of anti-grav thrusters against the bottom of the elevator shaft thrumming up through the floor and into the metal reinforcements of his bones. When the door slides open, the temperature of the air drops precisely ten degrees, and Tim has to blink his eyes — still fully organic, if only at Jason’s insistence — to adjust them to the low-level lighting used in this particular cell block, so he can watch as his next breath exits his chest in a rise of water vapour.

Finally, he’s here.

The floor is slick with water and ice as he steps forwards out of the elevator. It’s eerily quiet this far down beneath the planet’s surface. There are no prisoner’s voices to fill the air, like there are in the upper levels, and no guards, human or otherwise, on duty by the door. Nothing but the quiet hum of machinery, and the muted sounds of the comms still playing in his ears.

It’s just as he expected. The entire point of having a cryogenics facility in any prison was that it doesn’t need an active staff to maintain it. Not when most, if not all, of the machinery can be remotely controlled by the warden from the upper levels instead. With such technology, even the most dangerous of prisoners could be held safely without posing a risk to the lives of staff, or — so far as the Feds were concerned — wasting time and resources while they waited to go on to trial or execution.

 _This_ is where they’ve been keeping Jason since he was captured (two years, sixty-three days, eighteen hours, thirty-five minutes, and fourteen seconds ago). Freezing him in the company of mass murderers and rapists, as if _he’s_ one of the worst of the worst, and not the good man Tim knows him to be. Someone who had risked everything he had to help their cause, and paid a hefty price for it.

Tim swallows hard as he looks up at the towering walls around him. Everywhere he turns his eyes there are rows upon rows of ice covered glass pods with shadowy figures locked inside stretching from floor to ceiling; hundreds of them. Each labelled only with a number, not a name, to indicate exactly who they contain.

Finding Jason in this vast frozen warehouse would be daunting. That is, if Tim didn’t already have to key to finding him sitting inside his head.

He steps up to the command console of the waiting hover platform at the front of the cell block and, keeping his fingers as steady as he can, inputs the access codes to switch it on. The machine takes a few precious seconds to power up from its dormant state, but after that the process is simple. He only has to enter the correct prisoner number, select the retrieval function, and _go_.

Slow and steady (too slow for his liking), the platform rises up and starts to carry him forwards, deeper into the cell block.

And the further Tim goes, the creepier the place gets. 

He can’t help but think about how every dark tube he passes contains a life put on hold, a soul held in stasis. Are anymore of them like Jason, he wonders. Political prisoners of unfortunate circumstance, rather than true monsters? He wouldn’t put it past the Feds, but even if they are, he doesn’t have the time to sift through the data and look for them. Tim is here for one man and one man only, and once he spots a flashing light on top of one of the pods in the distance, all other thoughts immediately flee his head.

“Jason…” he breathes out, watching the name rise before him in another plume of water-vapour.

Even before the platform has finished docking with the cryo-chamber that contains him, Tim is stepping forwards. And once the last lock does click into place, and the safety rail on the platform disconnects to allow him access to the tube, there’s nothing to stop him from reaching out and laying his hand on the surface of the glass. He can’t actually see Jason, not yet, the ice covering the pod is too thick, but Tim knows he’s in there. He can feel it, and — after taking one deep breath to steady himself — he enters the codes on the door to begin the complicated process of releasing him.

Warm orange light replaces the cold blue around Jason’s pod.

According to all the records on cryogenics Tim could find, it will take approximately thirty minutes for the mechanism to safely revive him, after which he will be groggy, disorientated, and possibly suffering from temporary blindness and memory loss. But Tim has already accounted for all those factors in his plan, and so without too much concern, he settles down on the platform to wait, keeping his hand pressed to the front of the glass despite the unpleasantness of the cold against the sensitive receptors in his fingers.

And as he waits, he remembers. 

He remembers the way Jason looked standing at the door of the _Outlaw_ the last time Tim saw him _,_ tall and confident with Roy and Kori at his side. The words he had said just before he left (“It’s just a quick smash and grab, Tim. In and out. We’ve done it a hundred times before. We’ll be _fine_.”). Then the horrible feeling in his gut when the ship had come back home again, engines stuttering, her hull scorched by blaster fire, with only two out of three crew members still inside.

It had been the worst day of his life, more or less. But one that’s finally going to be put right.

With every passing second, the temperature within the pod climbs up. Tim switches the visor on again so he can track it visually, even though every rise in degree is already being relayed with perfect precision to his brain through his fingertips. Eventually, ice turns to water, and when the remaining condensation on the glass clears enough for him to see the man inside — only seconds before the door slides open — he feels his chest tighten with relief.

Tim just barely manages to scramble up onto his feet in time to catch Jason as he pitches forward from the cryo-tube, no longer held in place by any restraints. His body is cold and heavy when Tim catches him, but the important thing is that he’s choking, gasping, _breathing_ , and so long as that remains true, they can deal with the rest later.

“Jason,” Tim begins to speak, swallowing hard against the way his voice wants to crack and shatter apart as they sink down onto the floor of the hover platform together. “Jason, it’s me. It’s Tim. Can you hear me?”

Jason moans in his arms. Carefully, Tim shifts him so that Jason’s head is resting against his shoulder, allowing him to reach up with his opposite hand to brush the wet hair away from his boyfriend’s bruised face (because of course the Feds had beaten him before they locked him away). 

Softly, he calls Jason’s name again, and again until his eyes open and his lips, hard and cracked from the ice, part in response.

“Tim…” 

Thank the stars, Tim thinks, at the sluggish look of recognition in Jason’s eyes, he doesn’t have amnesia, or blindness. 

“Hey,” He whispers in response, conjuring what he hopes is a reassuring smiling onto his face

Everything in Tim wants to kiss Jason now. Hold tight and never let go. But he knows he has to take it slow and let Jason have the time he needs to come round from the lingering effects of a long hibernation before he can even dream of doing anything else.

As if to prove his point, Jason shudders in his arms. His eyes droop against his attempt to keep them open, while his body is still so much dead weight against Tim’s. “What…” he croaks, “what are you doing…?” his eyes dart to one side and then back up at him. “Tim, where…?”

“Easy. Easy, it’s okay.” Tim soothes him. “Just take it slow. We’re in the alpha quadrant. The Belle Reve penitentiary on Laysha. Do you remember what happened to you?”

“I…” Jason’s eyes almost fall closed, then snap back open wider. He makes a valiant attempt to sit up as the memory comes back to him, but Tim simply tightens his grip in response, holding Jason in place so he can’t hurt himself or worse, fall from the platform. “Mission… we were… captured… I was… went wrong. Something went… our informant...”

Tim nods. “That’s right.”

“Took me to prison.” Jason says, his next words even more alert. “They were going to… going to…” His brow furrows in confusion as he stares up at Tim. “Wait. Wait, what are you… how... _Tim_! Tim, you can’t… you can’t be here! You can’t! You have to get—”

“Shh! It’s all right! It’s all right, Jason.” Tim runs his hand through his hair again. Through the white streak across Jason’s brow that marks him as one of the few survivors of the Lazarus virus that was dropped on Gotham, only ten years ago. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s okay. I promise they didn’t capture me. I’m here to rescue you.”

“To rescue… me?”

This time his smile is a sad one. “You were late.”

Jason mouth falls open. Tim watches as he puts together the pieces, then, fully knowing he should dread the answer, asks, “How late?”

Tim swallows. “Two years.” he checks his chronometer again. “Two years… sixty-three days, nineteen hours, forty-six minutes, and—”

Jason stops him with a hand across his mouth before he can go any further. The quickest movement he’s made so far since falling out of the pod behind him. “I r-really don’t need to know the seconds, babe.”

A burst of warmth at the familiar, if eternally embarrassing, endearment accompanies the pinch of guilt. “Sorry.”

Jason shakes his head, wincing at the motion before attempting to sit up again. Successfully this time with Tim’s help. “I’m the one who should be sorry. F-fuck, Tim, I didn’t mean to...” He’s starting to shake from the cold in the room, and that more than anything else jolts Tim back into action.

“Wait here.” he says, sounding far more calm than he actually feels.

They have a schedule to keep. Everything depends on it. They’ll have time for a true tearful reunion later.

Stepping back to the control console of the platform, Tim hits the homing button for it to return to the docking station at the other end of the room. Then he ducks down to look underneath for the medikit that should be fitted as standard on all vehicles in Federation controlled facilities. Once he finds it, he retrieves the emergency blanket inside and returns to Jason’s side, wrapping the silver fabric around his shoulders.

Jason is looking in horror at the rows of pods around him as the platform travels back towards the elevator. “Stars, I… I c-can’t believe you came here, Tim.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim brushes off his concern as he ruffles the blanket over Jason’s hair to dry it. “I had to.”

“I mean it.” Jason says through gritted teeth, “B-Belle Reve is the most… most secure prison in the—”

This time Tim is the one to shut him up by placing his hand over his mouth. “You think I don’t know that, Jason? I’ve spent every hour of every day researching this place since they caught you. Digging into government networks, interrogating anyone I could find who ever worked here to learn the ins and outs of the system.”

Jason stares as he takes his hand away. “You… interrogated?”

“With help.” Tim corrects himself. “I had to. It was…” he glances down. “It was the only way to pull this off.”

“Holy shit, Tim…” 

Tim shrugs in the face of what seems to be a mix of both horror, and awe. “I couldn’t leave you here, Jason. I… whatever it took. I had to get you out. So that’s what I did,” he meets his eyes steadily, “Whatever it took.”

He expects to be chided again, but instead he feels Jason’s fingers against his face, trembling slightly as run across his cheek, over the band of the visor to his temple, then back down to his left ear.

“You got new augments.” Jason says, voice soft with wonder as he traces the slivers of silver metal visible through Tim’s skin.

Tim covers Jason’s hand with his own. It’s still cool beneath his touch, but growing warmer. “I did.”

“For this?”

He nods.

“And…”

Reaching up, Tim takes off the visor so Jason can see his eyes clearly. “Don’t worry, I kept your favourite part of me natural.”

Jason shakes his head, “That’s not my favourite part of you.”

Jason is always stronger than Tim expects him to be, even in the rare circumstances where he should be weak. Now his hand wraps around the back of Tim’s head to drag him forwards, so that Tim falls out of his crouch beside him and into Jason’s lap. His other arm wraps around his waist, keeps Tim from pulling away as he leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s not the best kiss. Jason is clumsy from the cold and a long sleep, Tim — once he realises what’s happening — too desperate. He winds his hands into Jason’s hair, pulling on it as their noses bump together. Until it’s not so much a slide of lips as a single line of pressure; like he could merge into Jason if only he tried hard enough.

Only the jolt of the hover platform docking at the cell block’s exit breaks them apart again.

“So,” Jason asks, flushed and more than a little breathless, “You missed me, then?”

“Like a hole in the head.” Tim replies. He frees himself of Jason’s arms so that he can stand, before offering him a hand back up onto his feet.

“When this is over, you’re going to tell me everything.” Jason says, taking it, “Everything you did while I was gone.” He’s smiling, but there’s a serious, strained edge beneath it, “How the biggest nerd I know broke into the most secure prison in the galaxy without setting off even a single alarm.”

Tim smiles back. He reaches inside his coat pocket and pulls out a laser pistol, offering it to Jason. “I will.” he promises, “But first we have to finish getting out of here.”

Jason accepts the gun without hesitation, steps unsteady but growing stronger as he follows Tim to the waiting elevator. “And how are we going to do that?”

Tim’s smile widens as he touches his fingers to his right ear. The voices waiting only for his signal to begin the final phase of their breakout. “With a little help from our friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr](https://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
